And Presently She Died
by Lothiriel84
Summary: It had started right after Wayne and Sarah's wedding. - WARNING: character death. The title is a reference to a quote from one of Agatha Christie's short stories. For tromana.


**And Presently She Died**

It had started right after Wayne and Sarah's wedding. She knew she wouldn't be able to find any sleep that night, so she simply walked into a bar and ordered a couple of drinks. Well, more than a couple, actually.

After that everything was a blur, until she woke up the next morning in a foreign bed.

The man was kind enough; he made her breakfast and drove her back to her car. She didn't even ask his name; the last thing she needed was any reminder of the previous night to linger on in her mind.

They met again a couple of weeks later. She was walking by the river late in the evening, and a drunken man had her pinned against a wall before she was even aware of what was happening.

A wave of nausea rushed through her as his filthy paws cupped her breast through the fabric of her sweatshirt. She felt too drained to fight him back though, so she just shut her eyes and steeled herself to face the inevitable.

A moment later her assaulter was groveling on the ground, and she felt a gentle hand resting on her shoulder.

"You shouldn't be wandering alone at this time of night."

Her arms were around his neck before she knew what she was doing. "Take me away from here."

He did. She never stopped crying as he made love to her on the same bed they'd shared on another occasion; later on he held her in his arms and kept on telling her she was beautiful, until she eventually drifted off to sleep.

They became lovers after that night. She kept on shutting off that part of her brain that warned her about the dubious outcomes of such a thing; she was sick and tired of second-guessing each and every one of her actions.

However, she wasn't under any illusion that this would turn out to be the happy ending she used to dream about when she was a kid. The only man that had truly loved her was now married to another woman, who happened to be the mother of his son as well.

Rationally she was happy for him, and for little Ben too; every child deserved to grow up with both of his parents after all. That didn't stop her from feeling like she'd definitely lost the one good thing in her life.

"Don't think about it too much," her lover whispered in her ear one night. "You don't know what fate may have in store."

A shiver ran down her spine, though she couldn't tell why. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing."

He claimed her lips with his own and dragged her towards oblivion once more.

The morning after she found a white envelope in his jacket pocket. She threw a quick glance at him – fast asleep on the bed they'd been sharing for months now – then opened the envelope with trembling fingers.

It took all her self-control to stifle a horrified cry. For there were several pictures of Sarah and Benjamin Rigsby inside there, and she immediately knew what all of this could possibly mean.

The feeling of an arm sneaking around her waist startled her out of her rambling thoughts. He'd caught her red-handed; what was he going to do now?

Surely she wasn't expecting him to drop a kiss in the hollow of her neck.

"Do you understand, precious? I'm going to open his eyes, so that he'll come back to you."

She nodded shakily and pushed him back towards the bed. Her hand landed where he wanted her most, and his mouth turned more demanding against her own.

"Let's celebrate then," she whispered huskily, her lips only a breath away from his own.

He smiled a slow smile when she wandered off to fetch a wine bottle from downstairs. His gaze never left her face as she took a gulp of red wine straight from the bottle.

They drank in between tortuous caresses, while the alcohol quickly lowered their inhibitions. She allowed him to take pleasure from her body until he finally collapsed on top of her.

"I… can't breathe," he let out in a throaty voice.

"Don't worry, precious. You'll feel better soon."

Her lips were now curled in a wry smirk. His eyes gleamed with understanding before he shut them one last time.

She shrugged his limp body off of her, her own senses swiftly ebbing towards unconsciousness. The amount of sleeping pills she'd stirred into the wine were finally doing the trick.

For a moment she debated whether she should call 911, let them try to save her life.

In the end she decided against it. She was way too tired; she didn't want to fight anymore.

And presently she died.


End file.
